Malevolent Singing Plastic Potties
by The Luna Complex
Summary: I’m honestly ready to Avada Kedavra either myself or the next person who decides to make that potty sing. Actually, scratch that. I’m ready to Avada Kedavra the infernal contraption myself.


**Disclaimer: I don't own a single thing. Not even the potty. How sad.**

**Dedication: Sophia's potty for resurrecting my muse.**

"_Toilet paper  
__Toilet paper  
__On a roll_  
_Next to me  
I could use a few spares  
Maybe one or two squares  
How about three?  
Hooray for me!_"

I groan and hold my head in aggravation.

How the hell did I get myself into this mess?

**x.x**

"James?"

"Yes, Lily love?"

"You know I'm going on vacation soon, right?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering... if you could do me a favor..."

**x.x**

Oh, yeah. That's right.

Me, being the wonderful, loving boyfriend that I am decided to take on Lily's babysitting duties while she was off vacationing in France.

Honestly, I don't know how she puts up with it. I'm honestly ready to _Avada Kedavra _either myself or the next person who decides to make that potty sing.

Actually, scratch that.

I'm ready to _Avada Kedavra_ the infernal contraption myself.

Whoever decided to invent a singing training potty with creepy smiley faces on it deserves a terrible painful death. _Avada Kedavra_ is too light.

Maybe putting them in my place right now would be suitable punishment.

"_Flush, flush, flush the toilet..._"

I am seriously fighting the urge to throw that damned plastic toilet out of the nearest window.

I settle for glaring at it.

It's glaring right back at me.

With _five_ faces.

Five very creepy overly happy singing faces.

Toilets aren't supposed to have any faces, much less five.

Suddenly, I find myself no longer glaring at the singing potty, but at a pair of blue eyes and a mop of curly brown hair a tad too close to my face for comfort.

"Jamie?"

"What is it, Sophia?" I ask, trying not to sound too annoyed. Oh, well, it's not like she'll notice anyway.

"I poopie."

"You poopie," I respond, disbelievingly.

"Yeah."

And with that, she walks over to the couch and lays down, her legs up in the air.

Oh, Merlin, help me.

I vaguely remember Lily telling me how to change a diaper, but I didn't really pay much attention.

"Pia," I say, stalling for time, "That's why you have to go on the _potty_. There's a reason you have it."

"No!" I'm quite sick of that word by now. Okay, no more stalling.

"What do I do, now?" I mutter to myself.

"Get a new Pull-Up, silly!"

Apparently I wasn't muttering.

"Thank you."

Wait a second; this could work to my advantage.

"Hey, Lilly," I say, addressing the small dirty-blonde, "You wanna help me change a diaper?"

"Okay!" she says, excitedly. Oh, how I wish everyone had the enthusiasm of a four-year-old.

I watch her as she runs to the corner of the room and grabs a new Pull-Up and a box of wipe-ups and dumps them unceremoniously on the floor next to me.

"Okay, so what do I do next?"

She gives me a weird look and runs away.

I guess four-year-olds can't change diapers. Damn.

Well, it can't be _that_ hard.

I slowly slide off the two-year-old's lime green shorts. I toss them aside, just in case.

Well, Lily said that sometimes she'll say she "poopied" when really she just peed, so maybe I'll be lucky this time.

I take a peek inside. Damn. No such luck.

I stare at the diaper, willing it to come off by itself.

Oh, Merlin, how do I get this off without making a mess?

"_Up! Time to go potty!"_

Merlin's beard, that malevolent _potty_ isn't making things any easier!

"Hey, Lilly!"

If she's not going to be of help, I can at least keep her on this side of the room so she can't set off that plastic abomination.

"_Down! Let's flush the toilet!"_

"What?"

"Can you come here for a second?"

She grabs the doll she was letting "go potty" and scampers over to the couch.

"If you tell me how to take off Pia's Pull-Up, I'll take you for a walk."

"Oh, boy!" she cries.

She climbs up on the couch and rips open the tabs of the diaper-like thing.

Oh. Well, that was obvious.

"Thanks."

I lift the young child up off the couch by her legs and remove the diaper.

Oh, crap. Literally.

"Now what?"

"Wipe her up!" she yells at me.

Merlin's beard, I'm getting yelled at by a four-year-old.

I grab several wipe-ups and begin wiping off the poop.

Merlin, this feels so wrong.

"Okay, Sophia," I say when I'm done, "Stand up."

I slide the new Pull-Up on her and hand her her pants.

She obediently puts them on and runs off.

"Now, Sophia, this is why you have to learn how to use the potty."

She runs off without saying anything.

"_I'm going on the potty now  
I'm so proud_  
'_Cause I know how  
I use the potty every day  
Then I flush it all away  
Everybody says 'Hooray!'"_

Oh, Merlin, help me.

**A/N: My muse was killed by the moving in of my two nieces, LillyAnn and Sophia. It was resurrected by a singing potty that kills me on the inside. How ironic can you get?**

**Leave a review; if this is successful, I might continue with all of their little toys that bug the living hell out of me.**

**Oh, it's also Lilly's birthday week. Leave a review as a birthday present for her? :)**


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